Infernal Journal
by RuthanneReid
Summary: Albus has a unique method of disicpline in mind for one Severus Snape.
1. Default Chapter

_Sunday, 10:00pm, Dec. 1st_

I cannot believe I am doing this. No, scratch that; I cannot believe Albus is _making_ me do this.

I suppose it seems fitting to him, in his uniquely juvenile humour, that I should be reduced to doing something so inane. 'Let the punishment fit the crime,' says he; very well. If he wants me to create and keep an infernal _diary_, then that is what he shall have. And if he wishes to read it later, then he shall be welcome to do so; if he finds it offensive, so much the better, at least from my punitive standpoint.

Now, given the situation and my proclivities, one would think that Albus was aware that I am perfectly capable of producing such drivel on my own; however, for my first entry at least, he has given me a specific subject: to write about that which landed me in such a humiliating situation.

That, at least, is easy. A _conjunctivitis_ curse, followed by a perfectly executed _musculus congelo_ and finished up with a _petrificus totalus,_ which was necessary because even with his muscles frozen, Black was still trying to gnaw my ankles. Now, THAT is a memory worth preserving.

_Finis._

* * *

_Tuesday, 1:00am, Dec. 3rd_

I had hoped that the passing of time would change Albus' mind on this, but it seems to have only made him more adamant; therefore, in deference to his request, I shall continue to keep this infernal journal. Let it never be said that my loyalty for Albus Dumbledore is anything but firm. 

It is now one o'clock in the morning; Monday has come to an inglorious end, and I have absolutely nothing of interest to report. I am tired; each successive year produces pupils with worse essays than the year before - with, in fact, no more than a passing acquaintance with their own native language - and I, as teacher, have the tiresome job of telling them so. More's the pity that so few of them take correction well.

As for tomorrow, once again, I have nothing planned beyond my duties at school. Perhaps I am the only ex-Death Eater in existence who suffers from the lack of a social life, but it seems that since I have begun this pitiful journal I have been forced to look my hermitage more closely than I like. I shall have to remember to thank Albus for this distinctly pleasant exp

/* 

That, dear diary, is an inkblot. It is there because I was startled in mid-thought by a noise in my classroom, which proved to be none other than Longbottom attempting to steal aconite from my store cupboard. 

This will be dealt with immediately. 

_Finis._

* * *

_Tuesday, 10:00am, Dec. 3rd_

Longbottom confessed in tears. It seems there was an unhappy joke played on the boy; he was told by the Weasley twins that their sister, Ginny, had been given a love potion by Mr. Draco Malfoy and that the only cure would be a mixture of their own creation using the aconite SOMEONE would have to steal from my cupboard. Sadly, Potter is still in the hospital wing and was unable to assist; and Longbottom, who is smitten with Miss Weasley for some unknown reason, volunteered to help.

His confession helped to save him; no points have been taken from Longbottom (albeit not by MY choice), but he has been given detention to teach him not to believe such absurd things without going to a higher source to check. The Weasley Terrors, on the other hand, have been given detentions and fifty points have been taken from their house. 

They left my office looking alternately miserable and defiant; McGonagall left looking disappointed - as if, somehow, she had expected something other from the people in her house. One would think she had learned better by now. 

Slytherins would not have done this; but then, Slytherins have never felt the need to hide what they are. If you wish to find deception, trickery, dishonesty, look not to the Slytherins: look to the Gryffindors. 

Gryffindors steal and lie with utter calm, most _bravely _cheating their way through life while appearing to be the heroes. Gryffindors run boldly into the face of danger, never once thinking how it will affect other people - rather not unlike one Sirius Black, come to think of it.

This is nothing I have not said before; but as always, Albus turns a blind eye to their faults, seeing fit instead to award them points for the grand feat of being extremely lucky. Life is unfair, as Albus himself is wont to remind me, and he agrees that real life will not treat them so nicely. But even given that, there seems to be no one at this school save myself who cares to teach them this while they are still young. 

It is true; life is unfair.

_Finis._

* * *

_Wednesday, 12:00am, Dec. 4th_

God help me, I cannot wait until this term is over. It was not enough to have Potter out of the hospital wing and back in my class; nor was it enough to have my own students doing so very poorly in the current house competition. No, to top things off, I have been given both Longbottom and the Weasleys for their detentions. 

I know Albus is laughing at me. When he reads this, perhaps he'll laugh some more.

Saturday I am going to deal with the Weasleys' detention; Tuesday, I will deal with Longbottom's. And God help anyone else who bothers me badly enough to earn another anytime before the end of the month.

_Finis._

* * *

_Friday, 9:00pm, Dec. 6th_

I have fallen behind by one day, and somehow, Albus was aware. In response, he has informed me that the brief account I gave of my experience with Black at the beginning of the week was not acceptable, and that I must now provide full details. 

Perhaps I will make my students do journals instead of detention. It is considerably more laborious.

On the night of December first, Sunday past, two of the Order of the Phoenix members were having a small discussion regarding the young Mr. Potter. The conversation itself was civil enough - at least at first - and then somehow, the subject turned instead to Remus Lupin.

_"Harry wishes you'd stayed," Black said, swirling his firewhiskey. _

_"I know," replied Remus, and stared at the fire. He was very, very quiet._

_"You never did tell me why you quit, you know," Sirius added, and threw back the rest of his drink. He'd already had quite a lot._

_"You know why, Sirius - they found out I'm a werewolf," Remus replied quietly, weariness bending his back; in the dim firelight, he looked far older than he was._

_"No, I mean - how they found out." Sirius was feeling conversational; sitting up, he scanned around for his half-empty bottle._

_"Oh. Well... word got out, didn't it?"_

_Sirius frowned. "Come on, Moony, you can do better than that." He threw his head back and finished the firewhiskey._

_Remus sighed and rubbed his face; he, too, had had a lot of firewhiskey, but it affected him differently. "I think I need to go to bed, Sirius. I have a long day tomorrow."_

_"No you don't, you don't even have a job!" Sirius exclaimed in tones of hurt, as though he thought he were being abandoned. _

_Remus flinched slightly; Sirius didn't seem to notice. _

_"Come on, Sirius; I have things I have to do, and so do you." _

_Sirius opened his mouth to answer, and then, with abominably bad timing, Severus Snape walked in the door. Shutting it behind him, he frowned at the smell of firewhiskey and the people occupying the room. _

_"I need Molly Weasley," he said. "Do either of you know where she is?"_

_"And why would we tell you, Snape?" Sirius said, eyeing him as though Severus's very existence were a personal challenge._

_Severus favored him with a look that said volumes about his opinion of Sirius' intelligence. "__Because, Black, last I checked the two of us were actually working on an assignment together to attempt to stop he-who-must-not-be-named from taking over the world - although I suppose that's easy for you to forget. The job of surrogate house-elf is certainly time consuming."_

_Sirius stood immediately, knocking over his empty bottle. Remus leapt to his feet as well, standing between them._

_"Severus - she's upstairs, taking care of Buckbeak," Remus offered by way of a peace treaty, and Severus nodded at him._

_"Thank you, Remus," he said loftily, and ignoring Sirius, swept toward the stairs. If he was aware of the death look Sirius was giving him, he paid it no mind._

_"Fucker," Sirius spit the moment the door was shut, and Severus heard him. But Severus only smiled; Black had lost his temper: that meant Severus had won. _

* * *

_The meeting with Molly Weasley went quickly enough; it was simply a matter of passing on information that her husband needed in the ministry, taken from Lucius Malfoy, and too sensitive to deliver any way other than in person. On his way back down, Severus could hear someone arguing._

_**"Don't you tell me to calm down!"** Black was shouting, and there was the sound of breaking glass. "He's a fucking liar! He's probably selling us ALL out!"_

_Oh, lovely. They were having a little spat about HIM. _

_"Sirius, please - " _

_"Don't interrupt!" A thump; perhaps Black had hit the table. "It wouldn't surprise me if that vile sack of shit is the reason you got fired!"_

_And then there was silence; the heavy kind of silence, the one that only comes when something too true for its own good has been spoken. _

_"...he is the reason, isn't he?"_

_"No... no, Sirius, it isn't that at all - "_

_"Don't try to lie to me! HE'S the one who let this slip! You've been hiding it from me!" _

_"Sirius - "_

_"That's it." Chair legs scraping against wood, and the sound of Black rustling for something - probably his wand._

_Severus sighed. It was no use waiting in the hall; Black would be coming after him any moment, and if they had a confrontation there, they'd draw everyone else into it. Slipping his hand into his pocket and wrapping it tightly around his wand, he waited until he could hear Sirius coming for the door, and then he opened it._

_Sirius stopped suddenly, startled._

_"You know, that's the problem with you, Black," Severus said softly, shutting the door behind him. "You never think about how your actions are going to affect other people."_

_"You... son... of... a... BITCH!" Sirius hissed, and raised his wand. Severus did nothing. "How DARE you come in here and try to lecture ME!"_

_"I must, Sirius. Unless you really think I should have let you come at me in the hall and wake the whole house."_

_Sirius paused, eyes narrowed, hand trembling, and Severus knew he had him. Nearly whispering, he pressed on. "You've always had a habit of forgetting the other person, haven't you, Black?"_

_"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Black shouted, and his mother's portrait in the hall began howling at the top of her lungs. Severus sighed._

_Remus tried to get in between them again. "Stop this! Both of you, STOP this!"_

_Neither paid him any attention._

_Sirius was panting, his cheeks flushed by firewhiskey, his hand unsteady; his mother's screeching seemed to have unnerved him. "You... you don't... you don't even...."_

_"You never even thought about what he'd feel like the next day, did you?" Severus whispered. "Never thought how he'd feel the next day, waking up to find that he'd killed - to find that he was covered in blood because YOU sent him fresh meat - "_

_Remus gasped. Sirius roared something blasphemous and mostly unintelligible, and tried to curse him; but Severus was already moving. _

_Step one: blast Remus Lupin out of the way, hard enough that he could not possibly interfere._

_Step two: knock out Black's vision - because then, whatever curses he used, he'd be shooting wild._

_Step three: paralyze. _

_Over the past fourteen years, Severus had been practicing his duelling skills, even under the tutelage of the Dark Lord himself._

_ Over the past fourteen years, Sirius had mostly been in Azkaban and not practicing anything at all. It was an easy battle; Severus won._

_Remus finally recovered enough to pull out his own wand and shout a quick _expelliarmu_s at Severus, knocking his wand to the floor, but it was really unnecessary at that point. Severus had done what he intended; Black was defeated, humiliated, and uninjured. Smiling at Remus, he raised his hands and waited for calm to return as more members of the Order came stumbling through the kitchen door._

...what an absurd affair. I almost cannot believe I bothered to participate at this point; although then, Black's eyes made the whole thing worth it. I cannot help but think, though, that something the dark lord has emphasized is most certainly true - especially in this light: power is everything.

Power removes pain. Power removes fear. Power _always _carries to the high ground. Power is what matters; and in that moment, for one of the few times in my life, I had power over Sirius Black - over the one who taught me how to hate.

Say what you like, Albus, diary, conscience, God, whomever; this is what I believe, and this is how I survive. There is no other way.

_Finis._

{ to be continued }


	2. Chapter 2

_Sunday, 3:30am, Dec. 8th _

I am largely tempted to simply recite today's activities in outline form, but I know Albus would not accept it. Rather than tempt his dubious wrath, I shall relate the day's tiresome adventures before allowing myself to go to bed. There is too much running through my mind as it is to be able to sleep without assistance.

There were two portions to this absurdly long day; one was the Weasley twins' detention, and the other was a meeting with Lucius Malfoy. I would be hard pressed to decide which was more taxing on my time - presiding over idiots, or being led by one. Perhaps I should leave that assessment to someone more qualified.

There was a brief breakfast; a boring detention in which mssrs. Fred and George Weasley handled undiluted bubotuber pus and turned it into something useful - I heard them muttering invectives at me as they exited down the hall, relieving the boredom slightly. This was followed by an utterly uneventful lunch, and then came the owl post.

_Owls come swooping in over the heads of the students, bringing an abrupt end to most conversations and fuelling spontaneous bouts of greedy cheer. __Naturally, I expect nothing by owl post. Those who need to speak with me do so by other, less conspicuous means, so it comes as something of a surprise when a large, tawny owl collared with what appears to be real gold dives directly toward me and deposits an envelope between my wine and my soup. _

_Its front bears __ the embossed Malfoy family crest. _

_What is this foolishness? He knows better than to send me messages in this manner. Already annoyed, I tear open the envelope to find the last thing I expect: a formal, gilded invitation, with dancing ink flames, dragons plummeting all over the page, and garishly ostentatious wording. _

**_To the illustrious professor Snape, friend of the Malfoys and supporter of those things which matter,_**

_Oh gods. There is simply no feasible way that I can read this sensibly in front of anyone. The other teachers are all trying to be surreptitious about watching me and failing miserably. _

_"Excuse me," I say to Minerva - the least subtle of my presently curious audience, as she's staring at me directly - and without another word, hurry down the dias and out of the Great Hall to my own quiet, cool dungeon._

_En route, I glance once again at the invitation. _

**_May our note of felicitation find you in the best of health, the best of feeling, and the best of times!_**

_Who wrote this drivel? A Hufflepuff on too much eggnog? _

**_It is our pleasure to announce a most glorious occasion! Tonight, on Saturday the 7th at 12:00am midnight, we will celebrate that indelible, delectable, unforgettable moment in time when he takes one more step toward adulthood. _**

_In other words, he's turning sixteen over the summer and they're going to have a party now because by summertime, we may be in all-out war. I loathe such social obligations. Lucius knows this; I have told him this, shown it on countless occasions, but is he listening? No. _

_I refuse to attend. _

**_You are hereby cordially invited - nay, required to attend -_**

_Damn._

**_ - the ensuing celebration. Be sure to remember Draco's new status and bring with you something appropriate to his age!_**

_Blah blah, Hogsmeade, blah blah blah, upstairs in the Three Broomsticks, etcetera and so forth. Wonderful. I'm sure Draco is ecstatic. I'm probably expected to escort him personally tonight; the permission form his parents enclosed indicate as much. Damn this whole situation. I will HAVE to attend._

_So he wants a gift appropriate to his age and one that will please his parents? Fine. __He gets veritaserum in a jar. That was easy. _

* * *

_Leaving the school at ten PM is barely worth the trouble it takes, but our choice is to either do that or leave far earlier and then have nothing to do for the rest of the afternoon. Given these options, I chose to stay._

_Draco, naturally, was eager as he's ever been to do anything. He hopped about, making snide remarks about Granger and mudbloods and Potter and Quidditch and mudbloods again once more, and then reiterating his gripes from the beginning all over again. Infuriating child; but I suppose I was not much better at his age. _

_Although I DO know I was quieter._

_The walk to Hogsmeade is dull, without any of the usual melodrama that can accompany such outings. By the time we arrive at the Three Broomsticks, everyone else has already arrived, and the lights of the inn are the only source of light on the street. A nod to Rosmerta - the woman looks about as thrilled as I am about this entire situation - and we climb the stairs. _

_The room bursts into applause as Draco walks through the door. He accepts the adulation, strutting in his dress robes, chin up. His expression is as pleased as though surviving another year were his doing alone. Idiot boy. Idiotic, beloved boy. Half the Death Eaters turned out for this occasion; of course, given WHO Draco is, that should not really be surprising._

_And I suppose it is not. It is simply... tedious._

Should I even bother to write most of this, Albus? Nothing of great import occurred; it was simply tedious, so very, very tedious. Draco was celebrated, I was hated, the evening finally came to an end. That is all there is to it, isn't there? You've put me in such a difficult position, Albus. Spy for you, your trust in me; and yet the Order does not trust me, like me, welcome me. They never will, I think.

And yet, neither do the Dark Lord's own - even though he himself trusts me completely.

I understand, and yet I do not. Largely, I don't really care what they all think; you trust me, the Dark Lord trusts me. The rest are naught but window dressing. And yet there are times - such as this impromptu party - when it would be nice to spend an evening with those who are my peers without constantly battling verbally for my dignity.

Lucius simply pulled me aside and told me: 'things are afoot.' Merlin's beard, that could mean anything.

I am growing morose. This is not something you wish to read, and neither do I (should the occasion ever arise when I opt to review this nonsense), and so I will end the account here. Draco was lauded, we came back to Hogwarts just before 4 AM, no Death Eater business was discussed. The end.

_Finis _

* * *

_Friday, 9:30pm, Dec. 13th _

For Merlin's SAKE, Albus! How much longer do I have to continue this putrescent mental diarrhea? This is NOT funny!

So here I am. I would much rather be dealing with the aftermath of this evening's Quidditch game and my own students' depression over it, but there are apparently much more droll things you'd rather have me do. And so, ever the obedient potions master, I shall indeed continue to do so, even though there is NO point to this absurdity whatsoever, and I am wasting good parchment.

And ink.

And time.

And patience.

Damn the world to hell.

I suppose I should sum up the week thus far. Detention was served by both the Weasleys and Longbottom without incident, for which I am grateful. My OWLS students are still not putting forth the effort they should be, which puts me and this school to shame. This entire generation is mad. They have no concept of the _future, _of long-term results, of life beyond Quidditch games and what they will have left to make of themselves once they've completed throwing away the most important years of their educational careers.

Am I the only one who sees this? I should not be. And yet, it appears that I am. For whatever reason, the parents of my own generation have failed to instill in their children the belief that life is what one makes of it.

I should consign them all to Bedlam and go live in a cave.

_Finis _

* * *

_Thursday, 11:30pm, Dec. 26th _

Today... I do not know what to say.

An attack came on the Ministry yesterday. This in itself was not a dreadful shock, given the holiday involved, and the fact that maximum impact was clearly intended. No, what concerns me is that I was not told it was going to happen.

Albus, you may not realize this; but for something this important to be kept from me means that I have slipped in some way. It appears that I have lost points, somehow, within the Dark Lord's ranks, and this concerns me. It means that I am in danger. I am going to have to take steps to correct this, Albus, or I will shortly be of no use to anybody.

And no, I am not telling you in person. You can read it here. In case I am going to my death, I would really rather not have a meeting with you in my mind for the Dark Lord to dig out of me before the pain begins.

And no - I don't particularly care if you do understand. This is something I must do.

_Finis _

* * *

_Saturday, 11:58pm, Dec. 28th _

Albus, I am happy to report that all has gone well. The Dark Lord's domain -

_So close. It's so close to Hogwarts. Merlin, but that amuses me; I wonder what Albus would do if he knew._

- which, unfortunately, I still cannot pinpoint thanks to whomever their Secret Keeper is, was deserted enough that I was able to deal with the Dark Lord without distractions. Even more fortunately, he was pleased to see me.

_"Severussss." _

_Oh gods. I know that look. This will not be pleasant._

_"There is word, Severus - word from yet more of my family that you have betrayed us."_

_"...my lord - you know this is not true. False. Falsehoods, spoken by those who are jealous that you trust me - "_

_"But should I trust you, Severus? Should I? Or perhaps... am I the one being deceived?"_

It seems that he had not wanted me involved for much the same reason I did not tell you I was going to go: so that, if you did happen to attempt to search my mind, my meeting with him would not be there.

It's really quite amusing, Albus, if is possessed of true gallows humor - an irony that even now makes me smile tersely, even as it makes me shake. It seems that today is a day of forgetting my skill with Occlumency. That either means I am so good at it that no one sees it's there, or that I my abilities slipping. Do I really need to say that I would prefer the former?

_The Cruciatus._

_Unappreciated. So effective when used right - and the Dark Lord knows, oh yes, he knows, just how to use it right._

_I have known some who claimed it could be used in extreme sexual situations to heighten the experience. To them I say that the very idea is a true form madness._

_"Aaah!" My screams rise to the ceiling and are utterly worthless; they neither urge him on nor engender his pity, and he does not stop until he is certain that I am too... pained... to be able to use my Occlumency against him. After all, he knows just how good at it I am. He is the one who taught it to me._

_"Severus." He approaches, from his throne; I cannot push myself upright or I would kneel. I WANT to kneel. Maybe he'll see that in my eyes - it would be good, I think, if he saw that in my eyes - _

I believe, Albus, that what I really need to do is pass on some sort of 'tip' or information that you would not mind losing but that would help to cement my position among the Death Eaters. I also need to do it soon. Of course, I would not even begin to guess what you would be willing to give up; but given that they believe I am spying on you, and that I have told them nothing of any real value in at least six weeks, I think it is time for me to say something they will consider worthwhile.

The Dark Lord trusts me, yes; but the fact that the others do not is putting me in a dangerous position.

_"Severus. You doubt. So many times, you doubt." His over-long fingers caress my hair, almost kindly, almost gently, even though he well knows that after the Cruciatus, every inch of skin is too sensitive to be touched. He well knows. His pain is... meted out carefully. _

_"I don't doubt you, my lord," I say, my voice haggard. At least I can form words now. At first, I could not as he held my head in his hands, my neck twisted at a horrible angle, and ate into my eyes. My thoughts. My mind._

_"No. You doubt yourself. Your own loyalties. Ah; Severus. You make me wonder, at times, where your heart truly lies." _

_I would dare hide nothing from him, or so he presumes. He would assume nothing but openness from me, in the face of such pain. After all, his skill with legilimency is legend - no rational person could ever believe it was possible to keep thoughts hidden from the Dark Lord._

_Never mind that with such confidence often comes a lack of... practice. _

As per your request, however, I must say that I do not believe I am willing to teach Potter Occlumency again next year. I am willing to oversee it, and I am willing to aid whomever ends up with the unlucky job of teaching him, but I will not do it myself.

Your flattery IS quite appreciated, but really, Albus. I cannot stand the boy, and he cannot stand me. He has proven to me for all time that he cannot be trusted, especially not alone in my office. The entire session would be wasted.

_His touch is gentle now - truly gentle. The potion he pours between my lips absolves me of pain, slides strength back down my muscles, and he is pleased. He is pleased, and so am I. I have passed his test._

_"Even with such pain, Severus, you are still my own."_

_"Yes, my lord."_

_"Very few are willing to suffer for me. To live for me, to die for me, oh yes - they will do those things. But to suffer... ah. Severus... you are one of a rare breed."_

_"Yes, my lord. Thank you." And I am that - just as he says._

_To be anything else to either one of them would be to suicide. _

_By the door, I can see some of the other Death Eaters - Bellatrix, Macnair, a few others - listening and displeased with the sudden favor I've received. _

_The fools. Favor such as this is paid for in blood._

I don't know, Albus, perhaps I am growing tired of these games; this never-ending, eternal chess match between good and evil, and I myself in such a strange position that half of the people on either side don't know whose side I am on.

_My occlumency is not necessary here. The obedience I give to Albus... the Dark Lord has never truly uncovered the reason for that, and he never will. It is too far outside his experience. _

_The others... have their guesses. But none of them, save Lucius, know me well enough to truly understand that I hedge my bets. A __ fool is he who does not lock both the front and back doors before going to sleep._

I am rambling on; how this turned into a personal missive to you, I have no idea, but sometimes, Albus, I tire of it all. Even though I know that someday it will all be made clear.

_"Someday, Severus, it will all be made clear. Someday no one - not even you - will have reason to doubt." He has given me a new assignment - new questions to ask, new information to find out._

_Of course, I won't succeed in gathering all of it; that would be impossible. It merely all depends on how much everyone is willing to lose._

_Reason to doubt, says he; yes. I do have reason to doubt. The Dark Lord knows this, but so does Albus Dumbledore._

_It is that very weakness in me - that very blindness to some of my own human traits - that makes me so useful - so APPARENTLY useful - to both mortal deities. _

For now, I've had it, and I am going to bed. Tomorrow morning, I believe I shall update you on the plans and posits I heard while there. And for the last time, get somebody ELSE to teach Potter the blasted Occlumency. Goodnight.

_I leave them all there, finally, relieved to be free. To have done my duty to everyone - and cemented my positions where I can be truly useful - is indeed a job well-done. In this game, I can genuinely say that I do not know who is going to win, but if I have anything to say about it, I know that my piece **will** be standing at the end. Alone, if need be. _

_That is the nature of survival. _

_Finis._


End file.
